


In between worlds

by Dominatrix



Series: 120 Raindrops on the window [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt, Platonic Romance, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/Dominatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First OS of my series "120 Raindrops on the window".<br/>Post-Reichenbach. Sherlock sees John standing by his grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In between worlds

Sherlock was not dead.

At least not in the conventional style. Everybody seemed to believe this, well, everybody apart from Molly. But he was still alive. At least roughly. He breathed in the cool air. It tasted of moss and decay when he inhaled it through his mouth. He wasn’t cold; however he was shivering when he watched John stroking the tombstone. It was a last touch, a last sign of his devotion. Sherlock shivered, and this time he did not try to hold it back.

The way that John nodded at Sherlocks grave – believing that there really was somebody lying six feet under – ripped the half-heartedness that had been one of Sherlock’s most striking character traits before he had met the army doctor, completely apart. John was a soldier was a soldier again, and there was nothing Sherlock was wishing for more than to step out of his place to hide and pull John in his arms. He wanted to apologize for what he had done to him. It had been to John’s best. And in the end they were all still alive. So it could have ended worse. Although…No. It was a lie. Sherlock was not alive. He was caught up somewhere in between worlds. He wasn’t really dead, but he wasn’t completely alive either. He would be alive only when he would enter the flat in Baker Street 221 B, put his violin under his chin, let the bow caress the strings, until a quiet melody came to life…But all of this was not of any importance in the end.

Because in the end Sherlock could live without all of this, but he had left one very important thing in Baker Street. Probably the most important thing that had ever belonged to him and that he never wanted to lose. John. He had to find a way out to be with John again. He had to decide for one world. Basically he had this long before. He wanted to live. He wanted to live with John. No matter how painful it would be, somehow Sherlock would manage to eliminate Moriartys accomplices – because of these he had several, Sherlock was almost perfectly sure.

He would eliminate them one by one. Something deep in Sherlock refused the thought of killing people. But in the end he saved his own life with this. Because right now he lived, he could see, breathe. He was able to feel. And this pain made him forget the thought that he might be dead already.

But he wasn’t dead yet. He was still living. But he wasn’t feeling alive at all.

Maybe someday that would change. And the hope for that day was worth all the pain and all the restrictions that Sherlock probably would have to bear in the near future.


End file.
